


be a riot

by Avvu



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aliases, Alternate Universe - Criminals, Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, Angst and Tragedy, Bank Robbery, Black Family Madness (Harry Potter), Blood and Violence, Canonical Character Death, Dialogue Light, F/M, Guns, I can't underline this enough: it's pretty dark, M/M, Minor Character Death, Romance, Sex, mafia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-22
Updated: 2020-11-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27670367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Avvu/pseuds/Avvu
Summary: Peter holds down the cashier; she is sobbing on her stomach on the floor. Remus’s left hand is shaking, but his right hand is steady. The revolver is pointing at a man’s back; he has been in the wrong place at the wrong time. James and Sirius are somewhere inside the bank, gathering money that should change their lives for good.Seconds are too long.
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 17





	1. prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Five years ago I got very inspired by the music video of Robbers by The 1975. Thus, this happened. Five years later I decided to re-write the original fic.
> 
> This AU has such a big place in my heart it's a bit scary. It's angsty and dark and a bit crazy, but so, so dear to me. I hope you'll enjoy this ridiculous AU as much as I've enjoyed (re)writing it. :') (the title is from Robbers by The 1975)
> 
> riot has a stand-alone sequel: [through veins, within void](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824830/chapters/68120470).

_well now that you've got your gun_   
_it's much harder now the police have come_   
_and I'll shoot him if it's what you ask_   
_but if you'd just take off your mask_   
_you'd find out everything's gone wrong  
(The 1975 - Robbers)_

Two steady hands. Finger on the trigger. Peter’s back against the brick wall. Sirius’ hands don’t shake, he’s ready to kill _that fucking snitch._ Blood and all-consuming insanity rush through his veins. The prey; Peter. The predator; Sirius.

“Lily and James,” Sirius says and laughs so hard he can’t breathe. “ _Lily_ and _James_ , Peter. Give me one reason not to kill you.”

“You don’t understand,” Peter says, pretentious panic shines through his words. The laughter dies on Sirius’ face.

“Fuck you!” he shouts. Sirens. He closes his eyes for a moment, inside his closed eyes there is only red. He can taste blood and smell the gunpowder. It feels like home.

“I tried to—”

“Save yourself? I know,” Sirius says, his voice is calm. He knows he is a marked man, he has a life sentence waiting for him. He could secure it all the same. The sirens howl in his ears, splitting out the eardrums.

Peter raises his hand reaching for the gun, _what an idiot_ ; Sirius fires. Peter’s shout is more for surprise than pain. The bullet goes through and takes his little finger with it.

“What the hell did you think, _pal_?” Sirius asks slowly. The smile sneaks onto his face unnoticed, secretly, _involuntarily_. “Did you think you could talk your way out of this? Too bad, Peter. You knew what you got into.”

Peter has real panic in his eyes now, blood on his face and sweaty hair stuck on his forehead.

“Give my love to Leo, Wormtail.”

A gunshot. Someone shouts. Sirius throws away the gun and turns around to face the police cars. He spreads his arms and laughs.


	2. JAMES

_and this is how it starts_   
_you take your shoes off in the back of my van_   
_\--_   
_and I'm not trying to stop you love_   
_but if we're gonna do anything we might as well just fuck_   
_she's got a boyfriend anyway_   
_(The 1975 - Sex)_

July  
1978

The sun is shining brightly and hot, the air is dry. Dust raises to the ankles as they walk and shirts get stuck on their sweaty skin. A white van is parked outside a petrol station somewhere in Glasgow. The back doors are open. The upholstery smells like cigarette smoke and weed.

James takes a few steps away from the van. He has sat in there for hours, his shoulders are jammed and he needs space, some alone time. He lights up a cigarette and turns his back to the sun. He notices the _No smoking_ sign, snorts and blows smoke at it.

“You know,” says a voice behind James. He turns to look. With the sun behind his back, Sirius is only a silhouette. “Not all rules are meant to be broken,” Sirius says and takes the cigarette from James’ fingers and puts it between his own lips.

“You’re one to talk,” James scoffs as Sirius gives the smoke back to him. Sirius grins. James has gotten immune to that years ago; he’s not infected by the puppy eyes or the lopsided grin that makes other people weak from the knees.

The sun shines behinds his back, and his fresh haircut exposes his neck.

  
  


“Buy fags and something for Remus to eat, he’s grumpy,” Sirius says, his shrug has a pretentious disinterest in it. James can see through it. Sirius doesn’t tell the truth and if he does, it’s faint and not-quite-there. He’s gotten it from birth, a mantra of _Caring makes you weak_ , and that’s why Sirius was kicking stones when James and Remus were taking care of Peter’s first gunshot wound. (It was just a scratch, but Peter is dramatic and there sure was a lot of blood.)

The door hinges screech as the door is opened and a bell clanks tiredly when the door hits it. The air smells like coffee and chemicals, it’s not pleasant. It reminds James of his mother and his home and it makes him shiver.

James buys two packs of cigarettes, a back of crisps, four bottles of water. A girl is sitting behind the counter, she’s wearing a miniskirt and she has too much black around her green eyes. Her red hair is messy around her shoulders. The other strap of her top is hanging off her shoulder on her freckled arm. She’s like a car crash or a dead body; he can’t look away even if he wanted to.

Some moments stay clear on your mind and they will return to you just before death, just before all brain activity is shut down—and this is one of them, James is certain of it.

James pays everything with a fiver. The man behind the counter has _D. Evans_ written on a name tag. The handwriting is clearly a woman’s. D. Evans says _Have a nice day,_ and the green eyes follow James out of the door. Shivers run through him.

“What took you so long?” Remus asks the second James is close enough. James answers with throwing the back of crisps to him. James needs Sirius. Breathing gets caught on his throat and thoughts are buzzing confusion. He goes around the van and green eyes greet him on the other side.

He can’t breathe.

(Fortunately, no one asks him what happened. James couldn’t tell them. Something clicks and he just knows what he wants, what he needs. And even if she has too much black around her eyes and too much seriousness in those eyes, they are the most beautiful eyes he has ever seen. And after that he doesn’t want to look at anyone’s else ever again.)

“Did I forget something?” James asks because that’s the only reason for her to follow him out.

An eyebrow raises with the corner of her mouth.

“Me?”

  
  


Lily Evans. Lily was born in January, and there is something in her eyes that cuts out James’s sentences in the middle; quiet defiance and decisiveness. Her nails are painted dark red as well as her lips, and her lipstick leaves a dark red stripe on the cigarette end.

Lily Evans is eighteen years old and she hates her sister. James tells her it’s common with their lot; no one talks about their siblings and if they do, they curse and spit on the words. Lily doesn’t have a mother, only a sister, her sister’s fat husband, and her father, and the gas station shop. A boyfriend, Lily has that, and James can’t really hide his disappointment. Matthew, Lily says, he’s going to propose. James congratulates her, tries to at least, and he forces his voice to sound reassuring, sincere, but the resolution is transparent, and it makes Lily smile widely.

James’s eyes get locked on the freckles on her shoulders, on the one tiny braid on her hair, on the golden earrings, and the collar bones standing out clearly underneath her skin.

Lily asks what they’re doing. James shrugs and doesn’t tell about the handguns in the glove compartment or the warrants. They travel, he says, and it’s not a lie. Lily takes it and looks at the van. She sees Sirius or someone, because she doesn’t turn her eyes away.

“You travel,” Lily repeats James’s words. She narrows her eyes in the sunshine and smokes quietly.

James doesn’t know what to say, but he knows he has found something. It sounds like a bad romance plot, his mind is full of promises and poems and he wants to tell all of them to Lily. Lily, who has too much black around her eyes and whose skirt is too short and who has a hole on her thighs, the ladder raises on her leg towards the hem of the skirt.

“You could come with us,” James says, it’s a stupid thing to say, he doesn’t even know Lily. Lily smiles, crosses her ankles and looks past James.

“I could,” she says. “But I won’t.”

 _Not yet_ is silent, and it’s enough for James.

  
  


*

  
  


They spend the night in a motel in a nearby town shout from Edinburgh because Remus says it’s wiser. They all have their own rooms, they come there at different times and they pay the rooms with unrecognisable cash. Sirius rolls his eyes behind Remus’s back, although carefulness has never been a bad thing. Remus is the logic of the group, they have all known it from the start, Sirius has known it even before the start. Edinburgh is Remus’s idea, as well as the small hours and the first aid kit under the front seat of the van.

James washes his clothes in the sink, and spreads them over the bathroom floor to dry. When he sits on the side of the bed, tiredness waves over him, it makes his eyelids heavy. But a knock on the door makes him open up his eyes and stand up.

It’s Sirius with a bottle of wine, and James isn’t immune to _that_. They have been driving for so long and they have been sober for so long, that James doesn’t even think about the gig tomorrow, when he lets Sirius in and takes the bottle of wine Sirius hands him.

“Peter has gone out with some bird,” Sirius says, he sounds almost sad about it, but also amused. James isn’t sure which one is closer to the truth.

“Let’s drink to that then,” James says and takes a swig from the bottle. Glasses are too fancy for this time, as the night is young and they are young and James craves to be drunk.

“You’re all gonna find girls and I’ll be left alone,” Sirius says grinning. James snorts.

“You’ll have Remus, won’t you?” he says. Sirius scoffs and takes the bottle to himself.

“He should leave me alone every now and then.”

James only shrugs. Sirius implies and leaves thing out, and James is so used to it he doesn’t even care any more. He has no idea what’s going on with Sirius and Remus for most of the time. He knows they’ve known each other the longest, but there is _something_ between them. Sometimes they leave bruises on each other’s necks and sometimes they leave bruises on each other’s chins and elbows. James has heard them shagging, and he has heard them whisper fighting, and James doesn’t know which one is closer to the truth. He won’t ask, they _never_ ask, they _never_ tell. James has promised himself he won’t think about it, but he’s not good with promises. He’s bad, worse, the worst with them. Promises become empty and too big in his mouth.

The night is quiet. They smoke and drink. Sirius gets drunk faster than normal, like staying sober was too much of a struggle for him. Maybe it is, James thinks. He never knows.

Although.

He has known Sirius for a couple of years already. Of course, he has always known _of_ Sirius. Sirius was _The older Black kid_ for the first fifteen years of his life. Sirius’s parents have been the topic of conversation in their dinner table.

 _Organised crime_ , says Detective Inspector Potter gritting his teeth. And then James fills his mouth with burning hot potato so he won’t open up his mouth at the wrong time.

James recognises Sirius from the pictures from his father’s desk, _possible suspect_ , _under surveillance_ , only because he’s a Black. But when he meets Sirius one winter night in London, James doesn’t see a possible suspect, not even a Black, only a bored-looking teen with cold-stiff fingers that don’t get the matches to ignite. And that’s how it starts: James helps with the light, they tell each other their names and realise they won’t get the worst kind of lecture from their parents if they ever found out.

It is exciting and dangerous and not allowed, and they start to turn up in the same places, by accident at first but then not so much. First at public, by _accident_ , by half-accident, as they both search for each other, and when they actually meet, they pretend it’s an accident, such a coincidence they’re both at the same street corner at the same time _again_. After that, their meetings get arranged, they meet on planned street corners, then at abandoned warehouses. Sirius introduces him to Remus, James introduces Peter to them.

They are sixteen when they rob a petrol station. They get a few hundred pounds, an adrenaline rush and an addiction.

  
  


*

  
  


“How’s the Scot bird?” Sirius asks but only the next morning, when the intoxication has died down, and the Royal Bank of Scotland is waiting for them. The morning hours are slow, anxiety is a jerking knot in James’s stomach and at that moment, James hates everything they do. It’s temporary, he knows that after five hours he’ll love it.

“She has a boyfriend,” James says. He tries to keep the bitterness out of his voice, but it slips through.

“So?” Sirius asks. James scoffs. James thinks Sirius doesn’t have enough imagination to even think what it would be like to actually _like_ someone. Sirius does sex without attachments, sometimes Sirius does Remus, and he leaves broken hearts behind him. Sirius is built that way, he doesn’t let caring or emotions out, he’s concrete, and sometimes James feels too soft, too weak, too much compared to Sirius.

“If you don’t mind that, it doesn’t mean I wouldn’t either. I don’t want to go between anyone,” James says, rolling a cigarette from Peter’s tobacco, wanting to end the conversation _now_.

“You’re just going to watch from the side as, quoting you, _the love of your life_ is marrying some other bloke?” Sirius asks.

“Whatever,” James answers, even though it isn’t. He has Lily Evans’s phone number folded in his wallet. And he dreams about her green, greener, greenest eyes and the freckles, and every time he goes past a phone booth, he wonders if that time he would call, he never does.

  
  


They are waiting two streets from the RBS, James is changing the radio station but it only crackles. Remus opens the car door and sits down.

“There is an APB on Leo. He killed someone,” Remus says. Radio plays two stations at the same time and rustling sticks into James’s thoughts, it makes his thoughts smudge.

“Fuck,” he says, he doesn’t know what else to say. “Sirius doesn’t know, right?”

Remus shakes his head and looks uneasy. James feels uneasy. If Sirius gets to know about Leo, it could spoil everything they’re trying to do there, and they can’t afford that.

“Don’t tell Peter,” James says to Remus. He nods. Peter is bad, worse, the worst with secrets, and James doesn’t want to take risks. James doesn’t like to keep things from Sirius, but sometimes it’s not avoidable. If keeping things from him will keep Sirius sane, it’s worth it. They keep a lot of things from Sirius when it comes to Leo, they have to. They know what would happen if Sirius knew. Sirius usually knows what’s happening with Osiris and Isis, but Leo is a sore spot for him. Leo is a sore spot for all of them, and they won’t take risks. It could spoil _everything_.

The silence continues for a while, the radio is still crackling and rustling. James presses his palms onto his eye sockets and sighs. Leo is seventeen and screwed even harder than they are. Not even Sirius has had a real APB on him. And for James’s knowledge, Sirius has never killed anyone.

And now Leo has.

Eventually, James gives up and jumps out of the driver’s seat. He hides the gun under his shirt and asks for Peter to drive.

He promises himself that if they get out of there alive, he’ll call Lily.

  
  


*

  
  


The radio crackles until it settles on a station. A bored sounding male voice is telling the news: “ _The Royal Bank of Scotland—A group of four armed and masked people was able to get away before the police came—Police believe the group is the same one that has been behind three armed robberies these past two weeks—asks for eyewitnesses—got almost thirty thousand pounds—”_

  
  


_*_

  
  


Three hours later in Glasgow, James looks at his portion of the money, and his fingertips tingle. Sirius is pissed off as if they had failed, but James can’t be more than happy that the plan worked as well as it did.

Peter sits in the back, looking tired, Remus is pretending to read the paper, and neither of them looks like they have just robbed a bank. James can still feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins and he can’t _stop._ He smokes a cigarette and takes out his wallet. He takes the phone number out and folds it out. Lily’s handwriting is small and rounded, they look delicate, it doesn’t seem to suit Lily at all. James hides the piece of paper inside his fist, steps on the cigarette butt and tells the others he needs the car.

He drives the others to the nearest hotel, it’s risky, but not even Remus says anything about it. James doesn’t get himself a room, he only drives away.

  
  


Lily sits on the steps in front of the front door, her shorts are ripped and her shirt sleeves are rolled up to her elbows. When James parks the car, his fingertips are still tingling. He steps out of the van and Lily looks up at him.

“You didn’t call,” she says, her voice has her smile in it. James’s eyes get stuck on her, and he’s afraid he won’t be able to look away ever again.

“I didn’t,” James says. “But I came.”

“I can see that.”

The silence is just silent for a moment, James puts his hands into the jeans’ pockets. The air smells like petrol and cigarette smoke and dust, James can hear a television from somewhere inside. The peace is _there_ and James can feel the lightning and sparkle between them

“A bank was robber today in Edinburgh,” Lily says after a moment. “They said the robbers used a white Transit and that there was four of them.”

“What a coincidence,” James says, it’s hard for him to hide his grin.

“How much did you get?” Lily asks, and although James has known Lily knows, the question surprises him. He can see the same quiet defiance and decisiveness in her eyes than before, something he could read as recklessness, but _that_ James has _no_ experience on.

“Seven thousand per a man,” James says, shrugs. “It’s alright for a gig that size.”

“You could even get something with that kind of money,” Lily says and stands up. “Matthew proposed,” she says then, shows her left hand. The ring is thin and golden. James can’t help himself, but he thinks he could get her a prettier, more expensive ring with an emerald in the centre, it would get along with Lily’s eyes.

“I’m sorry,” James says. Lily smiles.

“Good answer.”

And James can’t – help – himself. He opens up his mouth before the though is finished in his head, and the words crawl out from his mouth.

“Come with me,” he says, the words are quick and hurried. He wants it so much it hurts.

“I don’t even know you.”

“James Potter,” James introduces himself. “I sometimes rob banks. And you want to join me.”

“Lily Evans,” Lily answers. “I’m engaged. And maybe I do.”

James ruffles his hair. He is used to getting all he wants. And he wants Lily, so much it’s hard to focus on anything else.

“I can offer you so much more than Matthew or anyone. If you want to go to France or Morocco, heck, I’ll take you there. Fuck, I’ll buy you a prettier ring if you wanted,” he says, and Lily just looks at him, she doesn’t say a word. “Dreams are achievable with me. We can achieve so many dreams you won’t have any dreams left.”

Lily raises her eyebrows, looks at him for a long, longer, the longest time, until she shrugs.

“I’m going to regret this,” she says.

“You have no idea,” James laughs, it’s relieved and a bit hysteric laugh. Then he steps closer to Lily, takes her face between his hands and kisses her.

Lily’s mouth tastes like cigarettes and lipstick, it’s wet and warm. Lily’s body is narrow and soft against his, and James won’t regret anything. He lets himself have this, he gives himself and everything to Lily. And she takes it.

And they’re going to have the world into their hands.

  
  


  
  


Lily takes off her shoes when she gets into the back of the van. There are mattresses on the floor and half a dozen handguns in a toolkit. Lily takes a gun into her hand and draws an invisible line on it with her finger.

(Lily says she likes how to the gun feels in her hand. She likes it how that small thing has so much power. Just one movement of a finger and someone could die.

It sounds and feels scary and that’s why she likes it.)

Lily talks about her sister, and how she wants to see the world, she wants to walk on the Great Wall of China, and how she wants to fly over the Atlantic Ocean and how she wants to experience New York. And how she has never broken any bones and how she has never been to a real concert. And how she loves Jim Morrison and wishes to get married one day.

“Maybe that’s why Matthew seemed like a good idea.”

James doesn’t speak much. He listens to her and promises to grand all her wishes. He would resurrect Jim Morrison if he could, he only wants to give her everything. Everything.

  
  


The evening changes into a night, the darkness is quiet, and when James has Lily under him, over him, on him, skin against skin and thin mattress between them and the floor of the van, it is perfect and endless and final and James doesn’t ever want to let it go.

  
  


*

  
  


The next morning James doesn’t have to explain anything. Sirius takes Lily in with a shrug, _as long as you know what you’re getting into_ , and for that, it’s done with. Everyone knows Lily doesn’t know what she’s getting into, but no one says it out loud. Lily’s eyes have uncertainness in them as she nods at Sirius.

Remus takes Lily in warmer, which is weird to James. He’s never seen Remus being very warm to anyone other than Sirius, and that’s only when they think no one can see them, but something between Remus and Lily just clicks. It makes Sirius restless. James doesn’t care.

Peter leers Lily from afar, which isn’t weird. Peter is hard to impress.

(James sees how Sirius watches the thin golden ring on Lily’s left hand. James tries not to care, he’s sure it will be gone sooner or later.)

  
  


Remus already has a plan when they check out of the hotel. He has drawn a red circle on the map, and beside that Sirius has written £50 000. Lily’s green eyes radiate excitement. James really thinks she’ll be of use for them. And it makes the hairs on the back on his neck stand up and his skin feels electric.

Peter frowns at the fifty thousand.

“Is that ever going to work?”

Sirius looks up so fast Remus takes a step back.

“You don’t have to come if you’re too scared,” Sirius says, his voice is harsh and cold. Sirius is their leader, Sirius is the one they all turn to when they have doubts. Sirius is the one who made the first plan. Sirius is the one not one of them could let go, because if they tried, they’d let go on themselves too. Sirius keeps them together. Sirius makes Peter believe in himself, Sirius keeps Remus in line, Sirius ties James into them with double knots. And when Sirius doesn’t like what he hears, it makes every one of them itchy.

Peter shrugs but doesn’t say anything else. Everything about it, the red marker and the plans, feel daring even when Remus puts down a date three months away.

Sirius turns to look at Lily.

“Can you drive?” he asks. Lily nods.

“Good,” Sirius says, turns his face away from her. “Because you’ll be the driver. And only the driver.” Sirius looks at James, the look dares James to say something, anything to contradict his decision. James says nothing, but he realises Lily doesn’t know what that means. It means that Sirius doesn’t trust Lily, even though he has made it seem like he doesn’t care that Lily is now one of them. James grits his teeth. He knows he can’t change Sirius’s mind. Maybe Remus could if he wanted to, but Lily has to do it herself. And in the meantime, they need to manage.

If Peter is hard to impress, Sirius is something so impermeable it’s almost impossible to get through if Sirius doesn’t want to let her. Sirius gets bored easily. And James looks at Lily, he doesn’t even know her yet, and he wonders if she can get through him.

  
  


*

  
  


Long, ever colder weeks in the van go by. Lily has called home, told Matthew she won’t come back. James’s hair has grown longer from the back, and Sirius finally hears the news about Leo.

It’s a Tuesday, they are having breakfast in a pub somewhere in York, and someone in the television says something about Leo, and Sirius spills coffee on the table. Hot liquid runs on thighs and floor. They say Sirius’s name too, in passing, but they keep talking about Leo. Leo who has been arrested.

Leo has been arrested for two murders. He’s seventeen and spoilt and _spoiled._

Sirius’s hands are shaking and his legs get him out of the pub. Remus is the first one to stand up, but James tugs him back down. James is four steps behind Sirius. Sirius is walking in circles, trying to light up a cigarette, and he looks like he’s fifteen again; lost, and the lighter doesn’t work in his fingers. James lights up the cigarette for him, takes one himself and waits for Sirius to speak.

“You knew,” Sirius says. James nods. Sirius sees through lies, which is why they don’t tell him things. But even James can’t protect him for this any more, it’s all in the open now.

“Peter didn’t know, obviously,” James says. _And Lily_ he doesn’t add, it’s a given. Lily doesn’t even know who Leo is. For what it’s worth, Lily doesn’t even know Sirius is a Black.

“Of course not,” Sirius says, his voice is hollow and emotionless like something is missing. Something _is_ missing. Normally, when Sirius talks about Leo, his emotions overflow, they are black and full of rats and scavengers. Now there is nothing left, only emptiness and smothering bitterness.

“I guess it’s better for him to be locked up,” Sirius says, he grunts his words to the asphalt. “Fucking junkie kid.”

James can’t do anything else than agree, fucking junkie kid. He wishes Leo makes it out alive, for Sirius if not for anything else.

“Can you stay somewhere in here for a couple of days?” Sirius asks, looking past James.

“Sure.”

“Good. Don’t bother worrying,” Sirius says, drops the cigarette end on the street and steps on it. He goes to the van, gets cash and a jacket.

James hesitates for a moment. “Should I get Remus?” he asks. He knows the answer, but he wants to try either way.

And Sirius laughs at his face, hard and cold. “Don’t you fucking dare.”

James gets back inside, he lies Sirius needs time, and he doesn’t look at Remus in the eyes. He knows Remus is already hurting, and James doesn’t want to hurt him any more than that.

(Because sometimes it’s like salt to the wounds, but the wounds are so deep the bone is showing.)

  
  


They wait around for two days. Remus gets more and more anxious as the time goes by, and James has been listening to all the news, because maybe there will be something about Sirius. He’s afraid Sirius does something stupid that would put all of them in danger—in more danger they already are—but he hears nothing. Lily tries to ask a few times what’s going on, but James lies, Remus lies and Peter stays silent. James wants to tell Lily it’s better if she didn’t know, it’s better if she didn’t know anything, but he knows that wouldn’t be fair to Lily. So he says it’s nothing important, and Sirius does this now and then and it’s nothing for Lily to worry, really, really, _really_. Lily looks at him with her eyes narrowed, but she lets it go.

After two days of staying put, Sirius finally comes back. He has a black eye and a busted lip, and he doesn’t look anyone in the eyes as he climbs into the back of the van. Sirius orders Peter to drive, he sits on the floor, leans his back against the wall and closes his eyes.

“What the fuck happened to you?” James asks before he can stop himself. Sirius opens his eyes only halfway, looking at James with tired, bloodshot eyes. He’s probably high as fuck, his eyes don’t focus on James.

“Nothing happened,” Sirius slurs. James can’t say or do anything else, when Lily stands up and reaches underneath the front seat. She takes out the first aid kit, comes back with it and sits opposite of Sirius.

“What’re you doing?” Sirius asks, looking at Lily.

“Cleaning you up,” Lily answers. Her voice is so firm and steady, not even Sirius has it in him to say anything. Lily does just that, she makes sure the cut in Sirius’s lower lip is clean, and she puts a bandage over the scrapes Sirius has on his cheekbone. It looks like someone has pressed his face on the pavement. When Lily’s done, she moves back, and Sirius looks at her for a long time, but he doesn’t say anything.

No one says anything.

  
  


*

  
  


Lily has the ring on a neckless under her shirt. Autumn begins with rain, slow days, and the wind goes straight through the skin.

The house they live in is once abandoned. Orange wallpaper is ripped in some places. They’ve put the mattresses in the middle of the bedrooms, there are three of them, one for Peter, one for Sirius and Remus to share, one for Lily and James to share. In the middle of the rooms, cold doesn’t get to them so easily. Peter wants to renovate, he buys paint and new wallpapers, furniture from auctions. Lily giggles against James’s side and says that the house is sort of homey and romantic. James doesn’t think the same. He hates the place, but it’s better than the van. But he wants a beach house, a nicer car, maybe a dog. He wants his own life with Lily, without any rings.

One more gig, they say that every time, it’s a mantra they will chant over and over again. James can’t let go of it, one more gig, one more, one. But every time there is another one. And James loves it. He lives for it. He’s hooked, stuck. And he loves every second of it.

  
  


The nights are black in there. James wants something, but he doesn’t know what exactly. He’s full of excitement and the blood in his veins is thick. In his dreams he is sometimes something he’s father would be proud of; he has gotten into the police academy, he’s nothing important, he doesn’t stand out, he’s a biracial to-be cop, a _good son_. And every morning he wakes into the smell of cigarettes and surrounded by those other people that have let their families down. And he loves every one of them.

So maybe he doesn’t have parents any more, but neither does anyone else. _Fucking outcast_ , says Sirius sometimes and laughs over it, as if it was actually funny. It’s not, not really, but no one can be bothered to say anything. They serve whisky for breakfast, and when the house gets too much for James, he nicks chocolate bars and socks from the closest supermarket.


	3. REMUS

_step into your skin? I'd rather jump in your bones  
taking up your mouth so you breathe through your nose  
(The 1975 - The 1975)_   
  


January  
1979

Remus misses Wales. He puts his hands into his jeans’ pockets, and clenches his hands into fists.

Lily has been reported missing. Sirius is wanted dead or alive, but they prefer alive. James, Peter and Remus are still nameless partners, but they are categorised as _very dangerous_. Remus has never heard anything as ridiculous as that. Owning a gun doesn’t make him _very dangerous_ , it makes him _prepared._ He looks up at the sky, it’s grey and even, quiet. Trees look like they can reach the sky.

Remus scoffs to himself and puts a cigarette between his teeth. The lighter cracks a few times, then it lets out a blue flame. If their lifestyle doesn’t kill him, then maybe he’ll suffocate to cigarette smoke, or maybe Peter shots him by accident.

Or maybe his breaks down, it’ll fall apart into countless pieces between his ribs and shed to the bottom of his stomach.

  
  


Remus has run away from home many times. When he was fourteen years old, he wanted to know what it feels like to run away. After that, he kept on running until he didn’t come back any more. He’s still running. And now he has run away from the house they call _home_ because it’s the closest thing to one. James and Lily have been shagging for days on end, but the walls are thin and they can’t keep quiet. Peter has looked uncomfortable ever since it started, he lets out sighs of relief every time there is a few hour pauses but looks like a scared animal when they start again.

And when James and Lily stop, Sirius starts. His name is _Alexander_ , he’s blonde and tall, good looking, and loud in bed, on tables, against a wall, where ever.

Remus can’t stand him.

The sky doesn’t have anything to say to him, it only gives him freezing cold drizzle. The cigarette gets wet, and Remus’s fingers get stiff from the cold. He throws the half-smoked cigarette on the ground, it hides into the grass. He frowns at the sky, and starts walking back towards the house.

Remus is made of stainless steel and diamonds, he is made to stand everything and take in everyone, and he’s not going to break down, not that easily. His parents got divorced, his mother made him move in with her and her new boyfriend and his five children, and after that no one ever noticed Remus, but Remus didn’t break. In their new neighbourhood there was an enormous house, and in that house lived Sirius, and Sirius’s parents were even more horrible than Remus’s, and Sirius was, is, has always been too much for him, in every way, but Remus doesn’t break. Sirius started to be friends with James, and Remus was put into a second place in Sirius’s lists, but Remus didn’t break. And Remus doesn’t break, when James gets nightmares about his father arresting or killing all of them. And Remus doesn’t break, when Peter opens up to him, only when he’s high, how he regrets everything, how he doesn’t want to do this, how he’s afraid he’ll shot someone and what would happen to him then, if he _killed_ someone. Remus doesn’t break, he takes it all and he _doesn’t break_.

But he feels like breaking, when Sirius moans _Fuck, Alex_ in the next room.

Remus kicks rocks as he walks, and steps into a puddle. His foot sinks there, water comes through his shoe in seconds, and he curses and he feels like he could cry.

 _Alexander’s_ car is parked on the front yard, and Remus wonders if the sex really is that good that _Alexander_ has driven here, in their horrible house, and has spent nights and nights in there. (It is, Remus knows it is. Of course, he knows.)

The van is missing and so are James and Peter. And at the kitchen table, there are Lily, _Alex_ and Sirius, and Sirius doesn’t have any clothes on. Remus can smell coffee and sweat and gunpowder, and he goes past every one of them.

Remus’s room is also Sirius’s room, but for most of the time Sirius doesn’t even live there, he only has his clothes and other things in there. Remus throws himself onto one of the mattresses, the other one is pushed next to it, and two weeks ago Sirius has slept there next to him, and in the morning Sirius has presses his erection against Remus’s thigh and they have jerked each other off, but Sirius hasn’t moaned _his_ name. Sirius has only kissed him, hard at first but slower and lighter next and after he has come, he has whispered _c’mon Rem, cum for me_ against Remus’s mouth.

Remus wants to sleep for days. Being alive is hard, breathing is hard, and somewhere under his breastbone, there is a pain he can’t stand. His ears ring.

Remus misses Wales.

  
  


*

  
  


Remus teaches Lily how to fire a gun. Sirius has decided Lily is nothing else than a warm place in James’s bed, Remus doesn’t like taking risks. He teaches Lily when Sirius is not there, and he washes the gunpowder off Lily’s fingers before Sirius gets back. It’s too big of a risk to keep Lily only as a driver, if Lily doesn’t know how to use a gun.

A gun fits Lily’s hand easily. She’s good at it, she can hit a can of peas from fifty feet in a week.

Remus realises quickly why James likes Lily and why Peter doesn’t. Lily laughs off her mistakes, her eyes radiate enthusiasm, and when she concentrates she bites her lower lip and gets lipstick on her teeth. Lily is burning bright colours and something dark. Peter doesn’t know how to react to her temperament, James knows too well.

Remus doesn’t know about Sirius. He doesn’t want to think about Sirius at all, that is. He doesn’t care what Sirius thinks about Lily.

(To be honest, Remus doesn’t want anything else than press Sirius against a wall and _cry_ , lay his forehead on Sirius’s shoulder and pretend there is something real between them, that they can become something.

To be honest, Remus wants Sirius so bad it makes his breathing speed up.)

  
  


*

  
  


Aegle comes to visit, she has five years old Nereid. Sirius is the first one to greet them, Remus doesn’t hurry anywhere, he leans into the doorway, crosses his arms and answers at Lily’s questioning look.

“Sirius’s cousin,” he says shortly, and Lily’s expression opens up only a little. James has gone past them, he’s hugging Aegle like she’s _his_ cousin, and Remus finds it ridiculous. James has met her only a few times. Remus has _lived_ with her and her husband for a few months with Sirius, before Hydra asked them to move in with him. James doesn’t know her, not really, but still, he thinks he’s more to her, more important than Remus.

Remus goes inside, he doesn’t even say hi to her.

(Remus likes James, he really does. But so does Sirius, and Remus has the second place. He’s jealous, of course, he is. But he has his pride.

Sometimes he pretends he leaves that place, he leaves Sirius and James and Peter, only to see how long it would take for Sirius to beg him to come back. They wouldn’t make it for a week without him. They _need_ him, Sirius _needs_ him, and all Remus wants is to him to see it too.)

There is nothing else than hard alcohol and cereal in the kitchen cupboards, there is nothing they could offer to their quests. Nereid talks a lot for a child that young, and Remus doubts she really even remembers him, but she keeps on following him around. Remus gets so annoyed, he pushes Nereid into Lily’s lap and runs away. He doesn’t get far, Aegle gets to him.

“I wanted to talk to you,” she says, smiling sweetly. They go a bit farther away from the house, somewhere where they are not heard over. Remus lights up a cigarette and offers her one too. She shakes her head, and Remus scoffs out loud, it’s so hypocrite of her. She has blood on her hands, she has been dealing drugs for her entire life, and now she doesn’t smoke.

“Have you heard anything from Regulus?” she asks. Remus shakes his head, not after they’ve heard his name in the news. “I didn’t want to ask Sirius, he never wants to talk about Regulus anyway.”

“Yeah, better not to ask.”

“He has such a weird relationship with Regulus, don’t you think?” Aegle asks, she sounds sad.

“If you only knew,” Remus says, although Aegle is one to talk; her sisters and her relationships with them are as fucked up as Sirius’s and Leo’s. But Remus still doesn’t want to tell Aegle what really happened to those plates, she thinks Sirius broke by accident while doing the dishes. They were broken after Osiris told Sirius Leo has joined their side.

Aegle puts her hands into her jeans pockets and looks up at the sky.

“You have my number. Call me, if you hear anything about Regulus. Anything. I don’t want to hear everything from the telly,” she says.

“Alright,” Remus says, he tries to smile to make her believe his transparent promise.

“Thanks, Remus,” Aegle says, smiles.

Crows are cawing in the trees.

  
  


Aegle doesn’t stay for long. Before she leaves with Nereid, fifty quids and a bag of cocaine change hand in the doorway. Sirius doesn’t bother hiding the drugs, there is no one who hasn’t seen it before, and as far as they know, their location is secured and they don’t have to fear for a drugs bust anytime soon. After they’re gone, James and Sirius are too busy with the drugs to notice Lily, so it’s Remus who has to tell her things. He knows Aegle won’t want him to speak, Sirius won’t want him to speak, James won’t want him to talk, but he does anyway. Remus doesn’t like it how all the time someone is left in the dark.

A few hours later, after Remus has had two conversations with Lily about Sirius’s family and Sirius’s extended family, and after Remus has drunk half a bottle of vodka with Peter, Sirius informs them that he has dumped Alexander.

  
  


*

  
  


Remus and Sirius have been planning the next big gig. They sit on the floor so long Remus’s lower back has started hurting, and the whole room is full of light grey smoke from all the cigarettes they’ve smoked. Eyes are stinging from tiredness and smoke, but Sirius has wanted to change the date, and Remus is too tired to fight about it. They’ve changed it from a Friday to a Wednesday, and two weeks earlier, and that day is today. It’s not a good idea, or in any ways wise, but when Sirius has something in his mind, Remus can’t say no.

They’ve planned everything they can, and Remus wants to have a moment of piece, a moment of quiet before he needs to put on a mask and hide a gun inside his shirt. His head feels heavy and full, and all Remus really wants is to get away from Sirius for a moment. But Sirius doesn’t let him, when Remus stands up, Sirius gets up at the same time, and stands in the way.

“I know what you’ve been doing with Lily,” Sirius says. It’s strange how Sirius can make Remus feel so small and helpless, even though he is at least three inches taller than Sirius and he could easily just push him away. Only that he _can’t_ push Sirius away. Not now, not ever, not even when Sirius’s eyes are dark and deep.

“I guess you know why I did it,” Remus says, he tries to look at Sirius in the eyes, but he can’t, it just makes him feel even smaller, even weaker. And his words don’t stop Sirius, they only deepen the darkness in his eyes.

“Why the fuck do you care so much?”

 _You know why_ would be the answer. Anxiety waves between Remus’s ribcage, but he looks at Sirius, and Sirius looks back at him, and Remus doesn’t know what else to do than get away from him. He tries to get past Sirius, but Sirius is covering the doorway and grabs Remus’s forearm, stops his running and yanks Remus against a wall.

“You know,” Sirius says, his voice is low, dangerous, a raspy whisper near Remus’s ear. “I don’t like it when you revolt against me.”

Remus keeps his chin up, he makes Sirius look at him in the eyes.

“I don’t revolt against you,” he whispers back.

“Liar,” Sirius says, and it sounds like a term of endearment coming out of his mouth. “You know what I think about Lily.”

 _Liar,_ Remus wants to say, but instead, he says: “Actually, I don’t know what you think of her.”

Sirius frowns at him, but doesn’t let go, he squeezes Remus’s arm so hard it hurts.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sirius asks, he sounds almost amused.

“How could I know?” Remus asks back. “You’ve been fucking _busy_.”

And Sirius lets him go of him. Remus stays where Sirius has put him, his spine against the doorway. Sirius takes a step back, and before Remus can think better of it, he crashes Sirius’s back against the opposite side of the doorway. Something thumps; maybe it’s Sirius’s head against the door frame, maybe it’s Remus’s heart against his ribs. He takes a hold of Sirius’s wrists, making sure he won’t try to get away from him, but before he does anything else, he looks at Sirius’s eyes, Sirius looks back at him, then lowers his eyes at Remus’s mouth, absent-mindedly licks his lips and nods. He gives permission and he gives in, and Remus presses his lips against Sirius’s mouth, kisses him close-mouthed until Sirius lets out a needy whine and opens his mouth for him.

Remus lets go of Sirius’s wrists, puts his hands on both sides of Sirius’s face, and Sirius fists the hem of Remus’s shirt. Remus can’t breathe, he bites Sirius’s lower lip, Sirius groans and tries to move his groin against Remus’s thigh. Remus turns his face away, tries to take a breath, but his breathing hitches. He forces Sirius’s hands off him, turns and leaves him behind.

  
  


In the car, Lily looks at Remus with both questioning and knowing sharp green, and Remus hast to look away. He’s ready to tell Lily everything else, but he won’t answer to questions about him and Sirius. He puts the balaclava over his face before Lily can say anything. He takes a revolver and throws the shotgun to Peter who catches it mid air.

It’s both hard and easy to recognise everyone with only their eyes showing. James’s eyes are a soft brown, Sirius’s hard grey. Peter’s eyes are frightened blue, and Lily’s determined green. Remus’s own eyes are probably just full of empty and watered down colours, they don’t speak words like other’s. James glances at Lily, and maybe his eyes have concern and anxiety in them, who knows. Sirius doesn’t seem at all concerned, and Remus doesn’t want to think about it.

“Let’s go,” Sirius says and for a moment no one even breathes.

  
  


*

  
  


Peter holds down the cashier; she is sobbing on her stomach on the floor. Remus’s left hand is shaking, but his right hand is steady. The revolver is pointing at a man’s back; he has been in the wrong place at the wrong time. James and Sirius are somewhere inside the bank, gathering money that should change their lives for good.

Seconds are too long. Someone shouts, the man in front of Remus’s gun moves and Remus fires the gun.

The bullet goes through the man’s back, comes out from the other side, and gets lost into the concrete wall; the man falls on his face and lays there, blood coming out of the bullet wound in a steady flow. More shouting. Peter roars everyone to S _hut the fuck up_ , his voice is too calm.

From somewhere outside the building they can hear police sirens and at the same time, Sirius and James come back to the hall. Sirens get closer, and Sirius looks at Remus for two seconds, and in those two seconds Remus can see something in Sirius’s eyes; an emotion, hidden nightmares, restlessness and panic. And then it’s gone, Sirius kicks the lifeless man in Remus’s legs, and blood spreads on the floor. Remus’s legs don’t obey, Sirius grabs his wrist, murmurs _Fucking come on, Rem_ , and leads him out of the building.

Outside Sirius rushes them to the van, turns to face the police officers running closer. Sirius looks straight at them, takes off his mask and fires his gun twice at the sky.

  
  


*

  
  


They get out. Remus’s hands won’t stop shaking. Sirius’s face and Sirius’s name is _everywhere_ , now that the police have had visual on him, he’s everywhere. In the news Sirius’s name is said over and over again, there is talk about his family, and they talk about Gamma as Sirius’s cousin, and they use the word _mafia_ more than once, and Sirius laughs at that.

There are five stacks of money, ten thousand pounds in every one of them. Remus’s hands won’t stop shaking. When Sirius moves one stack closer to Remus, and puts one hand behind Remus’s neck, Remus doesn’t fight back, when Sirius kisses him hard in front of everyone.

Remus has killed a man. His hands won’t stop _shaking_. He doesn’t deserve kisses or sex of closeness; he needs a bath and fourteen hours of sleep, maybe he needs to get so high he can’t feel his hands any more. He doesn’t want blood-stained money, he only wants to close his eyes from it all, he wants to _stop_. He’s afraid of what will happen if he doesn't.

He kills too easily, he’s dangerous for all of them.

Nevertheless, he kisses Sirius back. James says something supposedly witty to Lily, and Peter laughs nervously. It’s not like it’s a surprise for anyone, everyone already knows. James knows, because James is nosey fucker. Peter knows, because he has followed James around for so long. Lily knows, because Lily _wants_ to know. Probably the only one who doesn’t know is Remus, and that alone is so ironic. Remus’s hands doesn’t stop shaking when he grasps Sirius, but it makes his mind slow a bit.

  
  


Remus’s body feels rigid and sore after sex, Sirius sleeps too calmly beside him, and Remus realises how uneasy he feels. When he closes his eyes, he sees the man bleeding out, the puddle of blood spreading around his dead body. Blood is dark and thick, and it moves slowly, too slowly and at the same time, the spreading is fast. Life is so fucking easily ended, Remus thinks and wishes he could turn back time. But because he can’t do that, he has to look at his own life and what he sees is wasted years and hurting heart and a life he isn’t too proud of. He’s nineteen years old, and ever since he saw Sirius for the first time, he has been on a run of sorts. He’s not proud of the things he has done, but he regrets very little. He doesn’t regret making sure he and Sirius started talking. He doesn’t regret robbing the first petrol station. He doesn’t regret falling in love. He doesn’t regret most of it. He takes a deep, trembling breath.

He looks at Sirius and wonders what Sirius would look like if he was dying, bleeding out right in front of him. The thought makes him run hot and cold, he feels crazy and scared.

Sirius turns on his side next to him. He has a dark crimson bruise on his shoulder where Remus has bit him, and Remus finds it hard not to touch him. He presses his shaking fingers against Sirius’s skin and breathes deep, in and out, over and over again, until his heart starts beating steadily. He doesn’t regret _this_ , he thinks, draws shapes on Sirius’s shoulder with his finger. He has Sirius, after all of the other stuff that has happened, Sirius has found his way back into the same bed with him. He knows he’s special, Sirius doesn’t do that with anyone else. It has been _years_ , everyone else is around for a couple of weeks. Remus has been around for years. And he has friends, however much he hated James and Peter sometimes, he still has them. He should be better. For himself, for Sirius, for all of them.

Sirius opens his eyes when Remus’s finger goes along his shoulder to his collarbone and up to his throat. Remus isn’t sure if Sirius has really slept at all. When Sirius looks at him, he knits his brows.

“What is it?” Sirius asks, and his voice sounds concerned. Remus imagined it, surely, but Sirius’s tone makes his heartbeat faster again, and it feels like breaking. He’s too fucking weak for this.

“Nothing,” Remus says. He doesn’t know if the expression he tries to have passed as a smile, but he tries. Sirius takes a few moments, then he sits up and looks at Remus. They sit there, on the mattress they pretend is a bed, and Sirius’s eyes look darker in the dim light of the room. Sirius doesn’t say anything, but moves his hand so that his palm lays on Remus’s thigh, and Remus opens up his mouth again. He has to try a few times, it’s hard to get words out.

“I killed a man,” he says then. His voice sounds hoarse and wounded.

“I know,” Sirius says, shrugging like it doesn’t matter. “And I killed Delta a couple of years ago.”

Remus doesn’t say anything. He has been there, he remembers Gamma’s husband, Delta, Rodolphus Lestrange. He has been the one to drag Sirius out of the house after he has put a bullet in Delta’s chest. No one ever found out it was Sirius, no one suspected Sirius, he was reported missing at that point, and the police were just happy that Delta was out of the picture for good. As far as Remus knows, he is the only one that knows. Not even James knows Sirius has killed someone.

“Delta’s not the same,” Remus says. Delta has been guilty, Delta has been one of those people who made Sirius suffer.

“Is, too,” Sirius answers. “He’s dead, just like the other man is. Both are dead and you can do shit about that. And besides, it was an accident, wasn’t it?”

 _An accident_. Remus wants to shake his head no. He knew what he was doing, he had the gun, the safety was off, he knew what he was doing and it was not an accident. He made the decision, and he shot, and it was not an accident. An accident is when he stumbles upon his own feet as he is too focused to look at the dark-haired boy walking on the other side of the road. An accident is when he is so deep in thoughts he pours vodka on the table instead of the glass. An accident is when he falls in love with his best friend.

But Sirius looks at him with intensity in his eyes, and Remus can’t say no to him. He nods. It was an accident. And Sirius smiles quickly, kisses him slow.

It was an accident.

  
  


*

  
  


Peter has been in a bad mood, jumpy and nervous, even more than usual. Remus has been watching him from the side, he has been waiting for him to snap. But nothing happens and after a while, Peter is back to normal, but then he’s more than normal. Peter is Peter, but put on high speed, he’s manic and fidgety as if something has gotten the best of him. Peter is planning to be a millionaire, and maybe he’ll save the children in Africa. James laughs at his face, but not even that makes Peter come down from his high spirits, it only makes him go faster. Peter plans and wants, and Remus is afraid the overdrive will burn something from Peter’s brain and make him break down for good.

Sirius doesn’t mind. Sirius doesn’t mind even when Peter buys a new car in cash.

“It’s a nice car,” Sirius says, and Remus knows Sirius has never really liked Peter, not _really_.

“I hope he goes to Africa,” Sirius adds. Remus doesn’t say anything, he chain smokes in their room and kisses Sirius when Sirius comes close enough.

  
  


Remus thinks about moving away. He wants his own place, he wants quiet. He wants to be somewhere he doesn’t have to experience James and Lily’s love. He wants to be somewhere out of the way of Peter’s mania, and somewhere where his heart doesn’t break every other day. Maybe he loves Sirius, and he wants to make sure he’s alright, but there are other people who could do that. He mentions it to James, how nice it would be to have his own place. James looks weird for a moment, then says he and Lily have been thinking about the same thing. They want to move out so that they could be together in peace. And James mutters something that sounds like a proposal, and Remus actually smiles at that.

“Is that so,” he says.

“I’m pretty sure Peter will move,” James says, and then things get hard. Remus chews his lip. Lonely Sirius is the worts one, the most dangerous one.

“You could take Sirius with you,” James says, not looking at Remus. Remus snorts, _yeah, in some other universe._

“Who knows, maybe Sirius will be alright,” James presses on. “Leo’s behind bars, he can’t get into trouble. And that’s kind of the only reason that would make Sirius do something reckless.”

If Remus liked it or not, James is right. It makes Remus’s insides hurt. If he did something stupid, died or got caught, Sirius wouldn’t even realise. Sirius doesn’t care enough, not like he cares about Leo. Remus doesn’t let himself mellow in it, instead, he decides with James, that maybe it’s the time to move on. They could still do that, be friends and all, but moving from the horrible old house is the best thing any of them could do.

  
  


Sirius doesn’t take it well. To be fair, Sirius doesn’t take it at all. He refuses to listen, he stops speaking to all of them. James says Sirius is acting like a brat, and Remus has to bite the inside of his cheek to not say anything, because then no one will talk to anyone anymore.

Remus is the first one to move out. He doesn’t have many things, some clothes, two bottles of vodka, money. He takes a cab, drives to the nearest big city and takes a train to Wales. He once promised himself he’ll never get back in there, but still, he has missed Wales every day of his life. Maybe it’s where he belongs. He sends Sirius a postcard, he writes down his telephone number and his new address, and he signs it as Moony and addresses it to Padfoot. Those are stupid nicknames they have used only to ridicule Osiris and Isis. They’re so stupid they’ve never actually used them, but sometimes they’re useful. (When Sirius is wanted and Remus has killed a man.)

Sirius never replies to his postcard, nor does he call. But after three months Sirius stands behind Remus’s door. Remus almost doesn’t answer, but Sirius rings the doorbell for so long the sound starts to hurt his ears. He opens the door. Sirius has cut his hair short, so short it’s almost impossible to get a grip of. Sirius has a postcard in his hand, it’s from Cuba. Remus laughs at that, and Sirius grins, and before the door is quite close, Sirius’s back is against the wall and Remus’s fingers are in Sirius’s too short hair, and something inside him waves like the Caribbean Sea. It doesn’t take long for Remus to get on his knees. His fingers have stopped shaking a few months ago, and when he opens Sirius’s belt and the buttons from his jeans, his fingers have confidence. Sirius breathlessly says something about Cuba being nothing like Wales, and Remus nuzzles Sirius’s lower stomach and just _wants_ , wants Sirius there and wants Sirius.

Sirius has fucked a lot in Cuba, or so he says, and Remus only listens and rolls his eyes when Sirius promises to show everything he’s picked up from the men there. They lay naked in Remus’s bed and leave bruises on each other’s necks and shoulders, and in moments like that it’s hard to remember that

Remus has killed a man

Sirius is one of the most wanted persons in the United Kingdom

Leo walks free

Peter has been missing for weeks and weeks and

Lily and James have gotten married.

Instead, he remembers how Sirius feels against him and how much he has missed Sirius and Sirius’s eyes and bloody hands, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Maybe he says it out loud, but Sirius says a lot of things, too. Remus tries to forget all of them before he gets stuck in the words. Remus doesn’t remember details, only that on that day he and Sirius make some kind of truce with each other, and they fuck or maybe they make love until their muscles tremble and the next door neighbour complains about the noise.

And when Sirius starts to plan a new heist, Remus doesn’t stop him.


	4. SIRIUS

_I’m sorry but I’d rather be getting high_   
_than watching my family die_   
_exaggerate and you and I_   
_(The 1975 - Me)_

_September  
1979_

The day Leo turns ten years old, Sirius realises Leo is not his anymore. Leo isn’t his baby brother any longer, even if blood said so. Sirius isn’t the most important thing to him, and it hurts. And when Sirius has to hide bruises from his teachers, Leo only hides notes Isis has written to him and put into his lunch box.

Sirius doesn’t usually think about these things, but when the house is lonely and silent thoughts come to him, leaving Sirius broken and empty. Leo is too much for him to bear. He wants to stop thinking about him, but he can’t get rid of him. He wants to, he has tried, but Leo stays.

“Fucking idiot,” Sirius mutters from somewhere through the haze alcohol has made for him, but he doesn’t know which one of them he means, himself or Leo. Maybe both. Sirius promises, again and again, that one day he’ll get Leo back and they will be like they were supposed to be; together, away from their shitty family, _happy_. After Leo got away from jail, Sirius hasn’t heard anything from him. He has tried to find him, he has listened to the news and read newspapers, he has asked Aegle and Theseus, he has almost wished that Gamma or Beta or Lux or Flavus would talk to him, tell him where Leo was because someone has to know.

Sirius has to know, the unknowing rips him apart, and there is only so much he can take.

  
  


*

  
  


Sirius travels to Wales. It has become a habit of his. Once a week he takes a train from London to Cardiff and walks the rest of the way to Remus’s place. He isn’t exactly sure why he does it, just doesn’t _know_ and he hates himself for that. Maybe he’s just too much of a wimp to manage on his own, maybe he actually needs Remus for something. Or not. He doesn’t _need_ people. But the loneliness is heavy and Sirius feels like he’s going insane in the empty, silent house. Remus makes him calmer, makes him feel alive.

He’s not going to say that to Remus, not really. It’s hard to say things to him anyway, no one has ever taught him how to say things like that. He doesn’t speak, he _does_. He clenched his teeth, and breaks windows with heart-sized rocks, and hides bruises.

Sirius stops when he turns to Remus’s home street. He takes a moment, breathes alone, smokes a cigarette, then another. He considers turning back, taking the train back to London. He does it every time. And every time after the second smoke he walks the remaining yards and rings the doorbell.

Sometimes they just fuck. Sometimes they drink tea. Sometimes they do drugs. Sometimes they just lay in Remus’s bed in silence, and sometimes Sirius lays there alone when Remus is somewhere else. He doesn’t know where Remus is, what Remus does when he’s not there with him, but he knows what Remus _doesn’t_ do. Remus doesn’t have a job, they don’t need to work, and Remus doesn’t have anyone else. Remus loves Sirius. Sirius knows that, because sometimes Remus says it out loud and after that Remus pretends he never said anything, and Sirius lets it go. But Sirius knows it’s true, he knows it’s there, he can see it from Remus’s face, his eyes, from the way Remus draws shapes on Sirius’s skin when he thinks Sirius is sleeping.

Sirius doesn’t know what that would be like. He isn’t sure if he knows what _love_ feels like. He’s never loved anyone.

(Maybe Leo, but if loving hurt so much, he didn’t want to know.)

 _So what about your parents_ , would someone foolish enough ask, and Sirius laughs so hard it hurts his stomach and bones. Or maybe he cries, but be as it may, he doesn’t love his parents. He doesn’t even like them, they don’t deserve that at all. He doesn’t have parents, not really. Some people ask, Lily has asked, and those who know won’t say anything. Sirius doesn’t have to tell anyone anything, he’s good at hiding bruises and he will stay quiet as long as he needed to.

(There aren’t many people who know everything. Leo knows, at least Sirius thinks he knows. And Remus knows, because Remus has been there, in person and in spirit. Remus has been _everything_ Sirius doesn’t know how to be _anything_ back.)

  
  


Sometimes, when the loneliness gets too much, Sirius goes to see James and Lily. It’s usually horrifying for everyone. James and Lily’s house is perfect and white and spotless. James and Lily live outside from the city, in a rural area where their neighbours have families and dogs and nice cars.

And they think about children, Sirius realises, when one empty room is painted with light pastels. Children, Sirius thinks and feels ill. He knows James is not Osiris and Lily is not Isis and their kid won’t be Leo, it still makes Sirius feel like James is betraying him. Like James has forgotten something important, but James never realises anything. James is like that. But Lily, perfect and beautiful Lily realises everything every time. Everyone likes Lily, James loves her, and Remus likes her a lot more than he usually likes people. It makes no sense. Sirius thinks Peter might love Lily too, but he’s not sure, because he doesn’t know what it looks like. Sirius has started to like Lily too, but he hasn’t said it to her. He thinks she knows already. Lily is good for them, good for James. James has a head with too many thoughts, he wants to save everyone, he wants to be everyone’s best friend, but Lily has made him less restless with people. Lily has made James concentrate on one person instead of three, and it’s good. Still, Sirius can’t see what James, or Remus, or Peter see in her. He only sees ordinary green eyes, dull red hair, a fairly nice girl, but nothing special.

Maybe it makes him a bad person.

  
  


*

  
  


Sirius and Remus have been planning the next big heist for months. They’ve gotten James and Lily to join them, but Peter is nowhere to be seen. When Sirius asks, Remus doesn’t even remember the month Peter has last been in contact with him.

“Maybe he went to Africa after all,” Remus suggests, but the suggestion is unbelievable and flat. Sirius shakes his head.

“Maybe he’s gone hiding somewhere and only uses his money for fast food and beer,” Sirius says, because he believes that more than Africa. Peter doesn’t have enough man in him to go to Africa.

“But if he comes around, do we take him with us?” Remus asks.

Sirius shrugs, he doesn’t really care. “Well, he’s been useful before,” he says, because it’s the truth. Peter has helped them out of some situations, even if he’s mostly just in their way. Sirius doesn’t _like_ Peter much, Peter is like dog shit under his shoe; unpleasant and hard to get rid of, since although the matter is easily cleaned off, the smell lingers.

“Maybe he’ll turn out,” Remus says and sounds like even he doesn’t believe it. Sirius can’t say he’ll put much hope on it, he doesn’t trust Peter enough. Peter is a loose end, and Sirius doesn’t like those.

“Put those away,” Sirius says, turning the topic off Peter and back to them and their plans. He doesn’t want to think about Peter, and besides, Remus looks too sexy for just sitting around. He doesn’t want to think about Peter, he wants Remus.

And most times Sirius gets what he wants, as he does this time. It doesn’t take a lot of words, but a whispered _I want you_ and _Do you want to fuck_ , and then they’re naked and Remus is under him moaning non-words and Sirius’s name, and for a moment it’s easy not to think about anything, just kiss Remus’s mouth and face and neck and it feels like home and it feels like peace. It’s easy to breathe and it’s easy to live. (And maybe it’s love.)

A bit after, Sirius decides he has to move out from the old house, he doesn’t want to live there any longer. It’s cold and windy inside, and there is mould and mouses, and it’s nice and warm and smells like sex in Remus’s apartment. Sirius wakes Remus up where he has fallen asleep.

“Can I stay here for a while?” he asks, he looks a bit past Remus, but then makes himself look at Remus. Remus looks surprised, a little shocked (maybe _that’s_ love), until he pulls himself back together.

“Yes,” Remus says, it’s barely audible. “Of course.”

They’re small words, but both of them can feel the bigger ones underneath. Sirius knows Remus can feel them, if Sirius can, Remus _has_ to. Remus touches Sirius with tender, light fingers and Sirius looks at him and tries to see if it’s there, love, but there is nothing else than warmth and careful happiness, and it makes Sirius’s chest feel heavy and too small for his lungs. But it doesn’t feel _bad_ , just tight. Remus’s fingers touch Sirius’s hair and neck, and Remus asks if he could kiss Sirius.

  
  


*

  
  


The day Sirius finally hears something about Leo, is the day he loses him for good. It’s an ordinary day, a week before Christmas, it’s raining in Wales and Remus is making tea for fuck’s sake, it’s so domestic and Sirius likes it. A lot. And then the phone rings. Remus frowns at it and Sirius startles so hard he almost stumbles on his feet.

They’ve just spoken with James and Lily. Peter doesn’t know their telephone number.

Sirius knows who it is. He rushes to the phone before Remus can even move, and when he answers the call, he can feel his mouth getting dry.

“ _Sirius_ ,” says low, sneering voice on the line. Shivers run up Sirius’s spine.

“Father,” Sirius answers, his voice is strained, and he can hear how Remus’s cup crashes against the kitchen floor. Sirius closes his eyes, his breathing gets shallow, and Osiris doesn’t say anything for a while, like he’s waiting for Sirius to break.

“ _You know why I’m calling_ ,” Osiris says finally, his voice reminds Sirius of everything he has tried to forget, everything he hates. He wants to end the call, run away, go back to the fucking horrible old house, maybe he wants to go back to South America and never come back. He doesn’t want to have this conversation.

“Actually, I don’t,” Sirius says, but he has a hunch. There aren’t many things Osiris would feel obligated to tell Sirius, not anymore. There is one thing, one person, that still concerns both of them and Sirius doesn’t want to think about that.

“ _You much be aware that if I know your and your, ah,_ partner’s _number_ ,” Osiris says, slowly and stretching, Sirius can almost see Osiris’s face when he talks, “ _the police also know._ ”

“I’m aware of that,” Sirius says, his voice is trembling. Osiris is stalling. There is a long silence between them, Sirius can feel Remus close to him, not quite touching, but there. And for a moment Sirius thinks the phone call has come to its end, but:

“ _Leo is dead._ ”

There, in Remus’s apartment, in their apartment, in the hallway, Sirius’s life becomes worthless. His Leo, his little brother, his Regulus. Sirius feels sick in his stomach. He lets the receiver fall from his shaking hand, he doesn’t try to catch it, it hits the table and then hangs on the air from the wire. He can hear Remus speaking, but he can’t make out the words over the humming in his ears.

_His Regulus._

Dead.

Dead.

Dead.

  
  


*

  
  


Sirius is six years old the first time Isis hits him. It hurts a lot, he’s a child, so it hurts more than anything else, and he has fallen off his bike and both of his knees were bloody and scraped on the asphalt. It hurts so much Sirius fears he might die. That night Regulus climbs into Sirius’s bed and comes close, puts his tiny arms around Sirius and lets Sirius cry for a couple of long minutes. And the whole time Sirius is mad with himself, because it’s not supposed to be like this, Regulus isn’t supposed to comfort him.

Over the time Sirius gets used to it. He knows when to avoid Isis, but accidents happen and sometimes they find themselves in the same room, and if Isis is drunk, she hits him. When Sirius starts drinking, Isis hits him. Sirius gets used to it and he grows himself a skin made of steel. He is good at hiding bruises, and the older he gets, the angrier he becomes.

And when he’s old enough, and Osiris asks him to _join the family business_ , Sirius laughs, spits on his father's face and runs. That night he meets James for the first time.

Sirius has met Remus a long time ago. It’s spring, the sun shines brightly, and the London house doesn’t look as black and Black as it is, and Remus’s hair is blonde and curly. Something about the boy few houses away from theirs, with baggy trousers and too long limbs make Sirius cross the street and go say hi to him. Remus is _fascinating_ , he likes rock bands and mathematics, and he has a lot of siblings but neither one of those is his actual sibling. They keep finding each other, and after a week or so, Sirius starts walking their home street from south to north and back so many times Remus finally comes back and sees him.

After three weeks they make a blood oath. It’s stupid, and the cut on the palm of his left hand hurts and stings, but still, Sirius takes Remus’s hands on his, presses their palm together and laces their fingers. They promise _one hundred summers and one hundred winters, and they will always have each other’s backs._ And they do. They are sixteen, and Remus’s house is too loud and Sirius’s house is too quiet, and when Remus runs away, it’s easy for Sirius to follow him. They go to live with Aegle, because she’s the only one Sirius can think of, and she smiles at them and takes them in. She doesn’t ask questions, she just turns the upstairs room into a bedroom and makes them tea. She’s been there, in Sirius’s shoes, she knows what’s going on, but she doesn’t say anything about it. Sirius and Remus live there for a while, they press the mattresses together and they’re kissing everywhere they go and Sirius feels happy and free there. And Remus likes Aegle and Theseus, and that’s the most important thing.

Hydra asks them to move in with him, he has more room and he doesn’t have a baby as Aegle and Theseus do. Hydra has once betrayed Osiris, and he’s been kicked out of the family. Sirius knows that living with Hydra means he has chosen his side, and because of that he doesn’t even pretend to think about it. They live there for a few weeks, until Osiris and Delta come in and murder Hydra in front of them.

( _That’s life_ , says Osiris, and Remus has to grab and pull Sirius’s arm so that they’ll leave before Osiris turns his gun at them. Sirius knows then he is in war with his family.)

  
  


*

  
  


Sirius focuses on the next heist. He doesn’t speak to anyone unless he has to. They find Peter, he has actually been in Africa, but not saving the children, only to take a break. Sirius laughs at him, nastily, he doesn’t care if Peter’s feelings get hurt. He doesn’t _care._ He’s hurting and he doesn’t care what anyone else feels. He has a hole in his chest, and it hurts so much he wants everyone else to feel it too. All for one and one for all, right.

They plan and perfect everything, and Sirius makes sure everyone feel like it’s worth it. When he’s alone with Peter, and no one else is listening, he promises to him he can leave if he wants to, but only if the gig goes well and Peter doesn’t ruin anything. That makes Peter take it more seriously, the maniac glim in his eyes is back.

Sirius promises to James he can have some time off, and to Lily, he promises she could become something great. He promises and he keeps his promises.

(He doesn’t promise anything to Remus. But some night, when Remus is already sleeping and warm next to him, Sirius gets close to him and breathes air on Remus’s neck and wonders what kind of life they could have had. If they were alright, if they had good families. If they were just normal blokes, with an ordinary life ahead of them. If they weren’t like this, what would they be. And Sirius wonders if he would like to be there, in Remus’s bed next to him, his nose on Remus’s neck, and accidentally he thinks _yes yes yes_ , he would love to be just there.)

No one talks about Leo. Actually, no one talks about Leo ever again, they let him be what he is—dead. Because dead is dead, and Sirius can’t do anything about it.

 _That’s life_.

  
  


*

  
  


Sirius is certain one hundred thousand pounds isn’t too much. If anyone tries to make him think otherwise, he glares them so long they shut their mouths. If they will rob a bank in London, they need to make sure the number is high enough for London. Sirius misses the feeling of fresh cash in his hands, the smell and the fear of death and excitement. Now Sirius has none of those, he has empty pockets and empty feelings, he doesn’t really care if he dies the next time he steps out of James’s van.

Thoughts in Sirius’s head are messy and scruffy, he can’t put them into words even if he tries. And when he tried, his mouth lets out hectic syllables he can’t decode himself. He’s in overdrive, he’s reaching his breaking point. When he closes his eyes, he sees Leo, and it makes him lose his sleep. Instead of sleeping, he walks in circles and plans and plans and plans. His breathing gets shallow and frequent.

“Calm down,” Remus says, his voice is flat, not demanding, only asking.

“I can’t get any calmer,” Sirius says.

Remus has let go of him and left him alone, alone, alone. Sirius is still living with him, but they only pass each other in the kitchen and because Sirius can’t sleep, they don’t share the bed anymore. Being alone when he’s with Remus, is the worst kind of loneliness. It’s the kind that makes him restless, it makes him angry and aggressive.

On Christmas Day, James calls them and tell that Lily is pregnant and they’ll have a child, a fucking child. James asks Sirius to be godfather and Sirius says _fine_ although he wants to say _fucking idiots_.

They go see Lily and James for the New Years, but they leave before the clock is even ten, but they get drunk and wine makes Sirius warm and sleepy for the first time in two weeks. When they sit in the train from London to Cardiff, Sirius feels calm and he falls asleep twice, his cheek on Remus’s shoulder. When they get back home, back to Remus’s place, home, they drink some more and after weeks and weeks of passing and loneliness, they kiss sitting on the couch and the year changes with Remus’s tongue in Sirius’s mouth and Sirius thinks that maybe _that’s_ love.

And a few days later Remus stops Sirius’s pacing, and that’s _love_ , Sirius _loves_ this Remus. His Remus, who is detailed plans, sharp emotions, boiling and overflowing defiance, controlled chaos. Sirius has missed that.

“Fucking stop,” Remus says, he _says_ , he doesn’t ask anymore. It’s not flat. Sirius wants to say _I’ll stop if you fuck me hard enough_ or _I’ll stop if you give me everything_ or _I’ll stop if you get Leo back_. Instead of all of that, Sirius leans his back on the wall and looks at Remus, he has to raise his chin to look him into his eyes, and maybe he sees something similar he saw one hundred summers and one hundred winters ago, because it makes him want to say

_stay, stay, stay._

But what he says, is: “Maybe I should.”

Big lies in tiny words. Lying comes easy for him, some people see right through them, some don’t, and some never believe a word Sirius says. Remus sees through him, Remus has been listening to his lies for years and years. And for some reason, it makes Sirius proud, that he has someone like Remus and that Remus knows him well enough. Remus fucking Lupin.

“I don’t know what the hell I should do with you,” Remus says and he sounds different now; annoyed and hopeless and maybe _that’s_ love. And for a moment Sirius thinks he could give everything up, only to change it all for remusremusremus, he could, he could, he could.

“Neither do I,” Sirius says, but there is _Do everything you can_ and _Don’t do anything_ in it, and he knows Remus can hear them. Sirius doesn’t know which are lies and which aren’t, and for a moment it looks like Remus doesn’t know either. Until Remus comes closer and hugs Sirius close to him. It’s closeness they hardly ever share, it’s comforting and calming and fucking terrifying. Remus has to whisper _Hold me back_ , for Sirius to put his arms around him and rest his face on the crook of Remus’s neck. He breathes in and out and in and out, he feels weird and maybe it’s love.

  
  


*

  
  


London is busy and grey. The revolver in the inside pocket of Sirius's jacket _burns_. He’s guilty before he has even done anything.

Over two blocks James and Lily are waiting. Peter is inside. Remus sits in the van with him. Sirius believes in them. It’s the biggest and best plan they’ve ever had, and maybe it’ll be the last one. Sirius has thought about it, and maybe he wants it to be the last one. After this one, they’ll have so much money he could move somewhere far away. Maybe he’ll take Remus with him and they’ll have a life together, maybe in America. They could become something, something else. He could change himself, his name and his identity, everything. He could be reborn, and he could forget about Leo and Osiris and Isis, and maybe he could forget James and Lily and the child, and Peter, he could forget Peter very easily. He could give away all his guns and he could wash the blood off his hands. Maybe he could fall in love with Remus before he falls out of love with him.

When he steps into the bank, he thinks all that could be possible.

But nothing  
goes  
as  
planned.

After all the planning, all the sleepless nights he has had, after all the certainty he has had, everything goes wrong. Shots are fired, Lily shots a civilian in the leg. Peter kills a police officer. Peter fucking kills a fucking police officer. James and Sirius are too slow. Everything falls apart.

They have 12 765 pounds and a dead police officer.

“Two and a half thousand quid per capita,” Sirius mutters to himself. He has never failed like this before. He has believed in them, he has believed so hard, and now they have failed harder.

The van is silent. Lily’s hands are shaking when she tries to light up a cigarette. Peter looks like he’s having a mental breakdown. Sirius can’t blame them. Remus feels calm, he rolls Peter a joint and looks like nothing could get to him. Maybe nothing can. Lily has now used a gun, which is a good thing, really, now she knows, but when she fired the gun, she has her long red hair out and someone might have shouted her name out loud. Maybe they’ll read about Lily in the newspapers tomorrow.

Maybe they’re followed at the moment and all of them have to go to jail.

Thinking about that makes Sirius panic, breathing is hard, his lungs are full of water. He asks James to stop the car, to _stop the fucking car now_ , and before James has started to slow down, Sirius opens the door and jumps out of the car. His knees hit the ground and his wrist makes a cracking sound, earth tastes horrible in his mouth. Maybe he’s bleeding, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care and he doesn’t care and he doesn’t care.

Sirius is twenty years old and he’s so angry with himself, he has left his gun into the van, he could have used it to himself just now. He wants to get high, he wants to forget everything and he wants somewhere out of there, not just America but away.

He can hear the van stopping and he can hear voices over his ragged breathing, he lays on the ground and it’s raining and only when Remus comes close to him and hugs him hard, he realises he is crying for the first time in years.

  
  


*

  
  


Sirius stays with Remus, even though he wants to get out of that house, that relationship, those feeling. He stays, because he’s not strong enough to leave, and he doesn’t feel like he could do anything by himself, not any more. He stays. It feels like giving up, it feels like bravery or stupidity or maybe it’s love. But when he looks at Remus, he sees _Remus_ , one hundred summers and one hundred summers ago, and he remembers why he is still there.

He’s there because he wants to. That’s why.

And even if Leo doesn't leave him alone, it’s easier to breathe after some time. Sirius sleeps a little, he laughs and it’s not hard and cold. Maybe it’s because he stays, maybe it’s because he’s with Remus, maybe it’s love. They don’t talk about it, not really. It is what it is, just as Leo is not. They leave it be, they let it happen, they don’t ask questions or give answers.

Maybe it’s love.


	5. PETER

_well, I stay tuned and listen to the news_  
_and try to fall asleep at night_  
_because I'm living in a house with just three walls_  
_so I'm always getting recognised_  
_\--_  
_my broken veins say that if my heart stops beating_  
_we'll bleed the same way_  
_(The 1975 - Pressure)_  
  


May  
1980

Peter can’t remember the time his hands weren’t shaking. Peter’s hands are shaking, and they won’t leave him be. They have betrayed him. His hands, his friends, everyone. Everything.

Peter rolls himself a joint, takes out matches, lights it and thinks about dying. It has become a nagging thought, something Peter can’t let go of. Not after he and his accidental gunshot became famous. Peter Pettigrew, a police killer. Peter is now dangerous. It’s believed he’d do it again. He’d certainly get a long sentence if he gets caught.

Sirius has promised he won’t.

Sirius is a pathological liar.

Peter kicks sand, it makes the same noise his breathing does on hard days. There are more hard days than easy ones. His life has become hard, he’s always on a run, and his lungs are failing before he can do it himself. Maybe it’s comforting, maybe it’s ironic. A crow caws in a tree, and Peter wishes the tree would fall on him, it could end everything, end him, it would be an accident and the end. Then there would be news: Peter Pettigrew, a police killer, was killed by a tree. The tree would do it again.

Peter has wished a lot of thing in his life. He has wished to have friends. He did have, almost. He doesn’t know if they are his friends or just people he has been in contact with. He has wished he could save someone, anyone. He never has. No one trusts him enough for him to be a saver. He’s Peter. Peter is always on the way of everything, Peter is too much, too little. Peter is. He has wished he could go travelling. First he wished to go around Britain, then Europe, North or South America, Africa. He has seen Britain already, and he has seen Africa. Well, Morocco, but it’s in Africa. He hasn’t been in Europe, not really. Asia is too much for him, too much and too sunny. America is too far away, both of them, and if Peter was brave enough to fly, the plane would fall into the sea, and then he’d die and become fish food.

Sometimes Peter wishes he never wished anything. Now he wishes he could be Peter. He’s not Peter-Peter anymore. He wants to be that Peter who got his name after J.M. Berry’s Peter Pan. He wants to be that Peter, Peter who doesn’t want to grow old. But he is old. And it’s horrible.

Peter throws the joint away, puts his shaking hands into his jeans pockets, leans his back on the wall.

Peter Pettigrew, a police killer.

  
  


*

  
  


Peter is not good with people. Peter watches as Lily gets married, as Lily’s stomach gets bigger because of the baby. He watches as Sirius and Remus stop circumlocution around each other, as they stop and stay with each other, instead of either one of them running away. Peter watches as the world around him turns and moves, and he doesn’t.

Time goes backwards, then onwards so fast Peter doesn’t know what’s going on. The seasons turn into each others, winter, spring summer autumn spring autumn summer winter autumnautumnautumn SPRING. Weather changing makes Peter’s breathing hitch, he closes his eyes from the sun and the blinds from the frost. He needs to check the date from the newspapers or the radio. He has to listen to so long someone says it.

Lily’s baby is due at the end of July. Peter hasn’t congratulated her, and he feels like a bad person because of it. Then he remembers the last time he saw her, and it was when Peter killed a man. As a killer he can’t congratulate anyone from new life, he needs to stay quiet about it, and he needs to start looking at his life from a different angle. He needs to stop thinking. He has blood on his hands and it won’t come off.

He believes Lily would be a perfect mother. Peter just knows it, Lily has something in her that tells him that.

Peter hasn’t seen his own mother for some time. His father he never knew. He has had only his mother, and sometimes not even her. He has betrayed his mother. He has promised to call, but he hasn’t. But after every heist, he has sent ten per cent of his portion to his mother, as a good son should, but he doesn’t get anything back. He has taken it, disappointment, with a smile on his face, even though he has a storm in his stomach and something is eating up his emotions. It has almost eaten him hollow, but over and over again it takes a new emotion from him. It doesn’t take loneliness or anxiety or shaking hands, it only takes happiness and relief and peace.

Peter doesn’t smile at the cashier, and he panics when someone is standing too close to him on the queue.

Being with Lily gives Peter some emotion, but it doesn’t last. It’s a short reminder that there are good things in the world and the sun shines through the cracks on the wall. Peter doesn’t like children, but he really wants to see what kind of new life Lily will bring to the world.

  
  


*

  
  


Peter buys a new car, and Sirius asks: _with what money?_ Peter isn’t sure. He doesn’t drive the last car he has bought, Remus has told him not to, and Peter trust Remus. He might not drive this new one either, but he buys it because he can. And he really wants to go to Europe.

“To France or Italy,” Peter says to Remus. Remus looks at him expressionlessly, then turns back to his newspaper.

“Is that so?”

“Or Austria. Germany. Maybe everywhere.”

Remus says nothing, and Peter takes that as approval, even if he doesn’t need that from him. He’s an adult, he doesn’t have to explain himself to anyone, he can do not do anything and everything he wants. And besides, he’s an outlaw, he needs to go out there and travel and make the best of his freedom as long as he has it. And Remus’s frowning doesn’t stop him. Not even Sirius, who crosses his arms as he hears what Peter is thinking about.

“Cars and holidays,” Sirius says. “One could think you did something else on the side.”

“I don’t,” Peter says, firmly but truthfully. He’s better at managing money than Sirius. Peter doesn’t use his money for drugs or getting drunk, he doesn’t want to get high or drunk or anything. He can live without it. Sirius can’t. Sirius is too broken. And that’s sad. Peter thinks that maybe Remus is just another drug for Sirius, maybe, Peter doesn’t really know. He doesn’t speak to them about things like that, or anything, really. But it has been like that for a long time now. It’s him, not them, whatever, what-fucking-ever, because

he’s going to travel to Austria.

*

Time has no meaning, and Peter travels back home. Lily has had a baby boy. Peter can’t see anything else than Lily in him, in the baby, and he can’t understand how _life_ works.

Other times death is all that surrounds him and the next second he’s holding a baby in his arms and everything just seems worthless. Lily has made Sirius the godfather, but Peter promises to Lily he’ll do anything and everything for the baby, for her and the baby. Lily smiles at him and Peter smiles back.

He smiles.

*  
  
  


Peter lays awake in his bed. It’s noon, but he won’t get out of the bed. Sun is probably shining from the window. Floors are flooded with cigarette ends and empty cups and plates and wine bottles. Pain behind Peter’s eyes has made a home there, he can’t get rid of it. _Migraine_ , says Lily. _Hangover_ , says Sirius, but Sirius has always been mean to him.

Peter glances his hands into fists. He has never like Sirius and Sirius has never liked him. Sirius is foul. Peter has always known that, and he has _never liked_ Sirius. Everyone else likes Sirius. Remus _loves_ him, and Peter feels sorry for him. Peter likes Remus, more than Sirius anyway. Remus is calm and strict, a person Peter feels easy to talk to. Sometimes he thinks Remus might like him, too, but most of the time it doesn’t feel like that. But it could be because of Sirius—Remus loves Sirius, and Sirius has been manipulating him.

Peter can’t stand that Sirius is their leader, a dictator ordering them to die for him. Sirius is unfair and mean, whining little shit.

Peter  
just  
doesn’t  
like  
Sirius  
at  
all.

But Peter can’t tell that to him, not to anyone. He is too afraid to; Sirius is too unstable, ready to explode. Sirius is too sharp and exact and too much. Sirius thinks everyone loves him when only Remus does, and Sirius doesn’t feel anything. Sometimes Peter knows that and he only pretends to listen to him. Sometimes he doesn’t know that, and then he only obeys.

(And then he finds himself pulling the trigger as his gun is pointing at the back of the policeman’s head.)

  
  


Sometimes Peter thinks about asking Remus if he really loves Sirius or does he only pretend as he does. He’s scared that Remus won’t answer or that he would say, too fast, _Of course, I do_ , and Peter wouldn’t know what to do then. He can’t manipulate anyone. He’s not very clever.

  
  


Peter goes to Remus’s place. (Sirius has been living there for months and months, but Peter can’t think it as _their_ place. There are only Remus’s things there, and Sirius is only an unmade place in the bed.) Only when he gets inside, Peter realises he hasn’t come to see Remus, but Sirius. Sirius is sitting in the living room floor with a bottle of vodka and a crossword puzzle. It’s an absurd combination, Sirius is pissed and actually smiles at Peter.

“It’s a new fucking world,” says Sirius, and Peter doesn’t understand.

“Right,” he says and sits down with Sirius.

“Lily and had a kid, did you know?” Sirius asks.

“I know,” Peter says.

“It’s so fucking small,” Sirius mutters. “Harry Potter, dammit.”

Then Sirius retches and Peter doesn’t know what to do with him. He puts Sirius into bed, gets him a bucket, cleans up the vomit and throws away the rest of the vodka. He writes a letter to Remus: _Sirius felt ill. The rug is in the washing machine._ He crosses over the _Peter_ at the end, because Remus knows his handwriting, and he doesn’t want to leave too much of him behind.

Before he leaves, he takes a kitchen knife into his hand and tries the blade with his thumb. A droplet of blood comes out. He wonders if he could do it. Sirius is sleeping, Peter has a knife and the sun shines.

He doesn’t do it.

*

Peter’s world is black and white. He knows things, he can speak multiple languages. He can separate good from bad, he knows all the capital cities of all the European countries. But there is something wrong with his eyes, he can’t _see_ the same way other people do. His world is not the same.

Blood running down his arm is black and the sky is grey. The sun is white. He is holding something heavy.

Peter looks up and birds fly away as he looks, black against the grey and deafening screams make the blood in his veins run cold.

Sirius’s voice is the loudest one, _Fuck, Peter, move_ , and Peter realises where he is and that the object in his hand is a revolver, that he can breathe, that the birds are not birds but people. People, whose world is too small for them, and suddenly all the colours come back and it’s too much and the seconds are too short.

The gunshot doesn’t come from any of them. The bullet hits the target and Peter’s heart doesn’t beat for two seconds.

“JAMES!”

Lily’s voice is full of terror and emotions and Peter doesn’t know what is happening.

 _James_ is holding his side and blood runs over his fingers, the blood is red and not black, it’s red and for a moment Peter thinks it’s the end. They have become three parts instead of one; James and Lily, Sirius and Remus, PeterPeterPeter. Four wheels, two pairs, it’s better than five, Peter realises that and he doesn’t look at James. Blood smells like copper and death and Peter knows what he should do to a suffering animal.

Peter wants to turn around, but Remus grabs his arms and makes him move. Sirius helps James to stand up, as if it mattered any more. Lily has blood on her face.

(Peter shoots the wall. Concrete doesn’t bleed, not black nor red, it doesn’t scream in pain. It crumbles and brittles.

Peter is concrete.)

  
  


Remus is driving, Sirius is pressing a white cloth against James’s side and James’s side is a waterfall. Lily is crying and Peter thinks that everything would be fine if he used five bullets right now.

*

They aren’t heroes any more. They are failures and one of them is probably dead. No one knows about the baby. Aegle knows only when she sees him. Aegle tries to fix James, and Peter makes words out of grains of sand.

n O M O r e

He sweeps his hand over the words before anyone sees them. He tells everyone he’s leaving. Sirius gives him cash and Peter burns it where he stands. Sirius looks at him with fury and darkness in his eyes, but nothing happens. James whines in pain. Burned bills lay on the floor.

“Goodbye,” says Peter.

Silence, answers Sirius. The door handle is warm and someone has left a bloody handprint onto the door frame. Peter gets out of there. Sirius says nothing, and even if he does, Peter doesn’t hear it.

No more.

No more.

No more.

  
  


*

  
  


A year goes by. Peter doesn’t see anyone for a year. He moves houses four times. He mum dies, but that is not important.

He meets a girl. He falls in love. Maybe. He lives with his girlfriend and his world is black and white but it has a meaning. It’s a new feeling. He remembers how to breathe and why he wants to breathe. And he breathes. Sometimes he can see colours and the trees make soft noises in the wind. He gets rid of the black and Black, and it makes him happier than ever before. Maybe. He has a set of dishes in the kitchen cupboards and a small television in the living room. Jenny, his blonde and normal Jenny, has two children and they watch sport and news as normal people do. Peter isn’t scared of the news. He doesn’t hear names he knows and he doesn’t hear his own name either. His pulse doesn’t raise.

His pulse doesn’t raise even when Jenny is naked underneath him, moaning and calling out for her God. But Peter’s hands are steady.

Peter Pettigrew, police killer, head of the house.

  
  


And then he receives a letter from Lily.

 _Hi, Peter_ , it starts and Peter needs to sit down to read it.

_Long time no see.  
Sirius says no one left in good terms. James has a job. Remus has gone somewhere, he left. Sirius says he’s in the north, but Sirius says a lot of things. Harry has grown. That’s what kids do, don’t they?  
A year is a long time._

_I heard about your mum. I’m so sorry. I know that you loved her very much._

_Sirius has a new idea. He’s calling it The End, whatever that means. No one wants anyone there, I don’t know what happened to the trust we once had. James is going. I’m going because he does._

_You should, too._

_Without Remus we need you._

_I hope you’re well,  
Lily._

Some words have been crossed over, Peter looks at them against light and laughs. _Hope you’re alive_. What else he could be if not alive. He has never been anything else than alive. He is alive and he is breathing and the air in his lungs feels like ice and his lungs feel too small, but he writes back two words.

_I will._

  
  


*

  
  


The End, it’s Sirius’s masterpiece. Lily has cut her hair. James’s hair is the same as always. James is hand is big and heavy on Peter’s shoulder. Remus is an empty chair. Remus is an emptiness in Sirius’s eyes. The plan is flawless. Peter can see John Dillinger in it, but he doesn’t say it out loud because Sirius doesn’t like Dillinger.

(And when Peter looks at James and Lily, he can see Bonnie and Clyde. He sees them and hates himself, he’s afraid reincarnation is possible; he can see the blind love that has made Lily chosen the wrong person.)

“What do you think?” Sirius asks Peter. Peter raises his eyebrows, it’s a question Sirius would ask from Remus, not Peter, but maybe Peter is the second best.

“Fine,” he says and asks: “Can I take these?” He points at the plans, the map, the floor plan. Sirius thinks for a long time.

“I’m a bit rusty,” Peter adds and grins. Sirius nods.

“I don’t need them,” he says.

 _No, you don’t_ , Peter thinks and takes it all.

  
  


  
  


_October  
1981_

_Scotland Yard, London_

A thick envelope has been send to them, with large letters on the front: _DO WHAT YOU CAN_.

“Are these—” says the female Sergeant looking at the pictures and papers falling on the desk.

“Yes,” says the Chief Inspector. “And look.” He takes the photographs on his hand; pictures of men, faces from different angles, and one woman with red hair and a wide smile. There is writing on the back of the photographs:

_James Potter and Lily (Evans) Potter, Dec 1980_

_Sirius Black and James Potter, Jun 1978_

_Sirius Black, May 1978_

_Remus Lupin, Aug 1979_

_Sirius Black, James Potter, Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew, Jan 1977_

“Someone’s been busy,” says the female officer. They both turn to look at the date circled on the first page of what seems like a detailed plan: 31st of October.

  
  


*

  
  


Peter takes a deep breath. He is calm. He is going to die tonight. He knows that. He has made sure of it. It’s the last day on earth for him and he’s _pleased_. If he believed in God, he would be blessed, even. He has prepared himself. He has had his last meal. He has told Jenny he loves her. Three minutes ago, he has told Lily he loves her. He hasn’t said anything to Sirius. Sirius can see through him. And now he sits in the car, in James’s father’s old van and he is ready to die.

Peter hopes they’ll write news about him. He hopes they have his name, his age, his history in the article.

Peter Pettigrew, a police killer. A martyr.

  
  


Peter knows things. He has watched as Sirius’s hands have started to sweat and then he has said: “We could take two cars. Sirius and I in the van and James and Lily could take my car.”

“Good idea,” says Sirius. “Take Peter’s car,” he says to James and Lily.

James nods. Lily nods. Lily looks at Peter and Peter looks back. When no one else sees, Peter mouths: _I’m sorry._ Lily looks confused but before she can ask, they have gone.

And then, it’s time.

The  
End

Peter presses his knees together as he sits in the front seat of the van. He can see his own car in front of them. It happens rather fast, he thinks. He smiles.

The police are waiting for them, armed and ready and before James can turn away, they start the fire. Sirius slams the breaks so hard the whole car yanks and the seat belt burns on Peter's neck.

Peter can’t hear anything.  
He can see.

Blood spreads onto the back window of his car.

  
  


Peter takes off the seat belt. He jumps out of the car and starts running. He knows Sirius knows, but Peter only laughs. He laughs and almost trips but

he has saved them all.

He has saved them all.

Poor Remus, Peter hasn’t been able to save him. Poor Harry, but Lily has a sister who can look after him. Peter has saved them all. No more shaking hands. No more unfelt emotions. No more guns. No more bullets. No more raspiness his lungs.

“Lily and James,” says Sirius and Peter stops, he turns, his back against a wall and he breathes and breathes and breathes.

No more.

“You don’t understand,” Peter says. Sirius laughs and then he laughs no more.

No more.

“Fuck you!” Sirius shouts and so does the sirens. Peter breathes.

“I tried to—”

“Save your own skin? I know.”

No more.

Peter doesn’t say _You’re wrong_ , he only makes it easier for Sirius; he tries to get his gun and then Sirius pulls the trigger. The bullet goes through Peter’s hand, his hand tears and his blood is not black but red. Peter looks at it and laughs.

“What the hell did you think, _pal_?” Sirius asks slowly, he smiles coldly. “Did you think you could talk your way out of this? Too bad, Peter. You knew what you got into.”

 _I did, I did, I did_ , Peter tries to say but the pain in his hand doesn’t let any voice through. _Don’t ruin everything_ , he tries to say and then he realises he is going to _die_. And suddenly dying doesn’t seem like a good idea, but something, the pain, the panic, Sirius’s smile, makes him stay where he stands.

He looks at death in the eyes and death looks back at him.

“Give my love to Leo, Wormtail.”

No more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. I've started writing a sequel to this (in which Sirius escapes from prison and S and R.... lie low.... for 40k.....), so to be continued maybe. Here are all the aliases, I'm pretty sure some of them are way too hard to catch from the story. :') hope you liked <3 // the sequel can be found here: [through veins, within void](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27824830/chapters/68120470)
> 
> Leo: Regulus Black, Osiris: Orion Black, Isis: Walburga Black  
> Gamma: Bellatrix Lestrange, Delta: Rodolphus Lestrange, Beta: Rabastan Lestrange, Lux: Lucius Malfoy, Flavus: Narcissa Malfoy  
> Aegle: Andromeda Tonks, Theseus: Ted Tonks, Nereid: Nymphadora Tonks, Hydra: Alphard Black


End file.
